


visions in the dark

by darthpumpkinspice



Series: fighting towards a blood-stained peace [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Chapter 12 remix, F/M, M/M, Sex Magic, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, smuttier reworking of the cave scene lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:13:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25697863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthpumpkinspice/pseuds/darthpumpkinspice
Summary: With Dathomirian magic thrumming around them, Satine, Maul, and Saxon succumb to their instincts.AKA the NSFW version of choices of war Chapter 12
Relationships: Darth Maul/Gar Saxon, Satine Kryze/Darth Maul, Satine Kryze/Gar Saxon, Satine Kryze/Gar Saxon/Darth Maul
Series: fighting towards a blood-stained peace [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838950
Comments: 8
Kudos: 37





	visions in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> lol so parts of this were just sitting around in my folders waiting to be polished up - which is why this was released so quickly! my next story in this series will be the Satine&Savage&Latts one, which unfortunately does not have the benefit of being partially drafted- I suspect I'll get that one out September/October or so
> 
> anywayyyy enjoy this little AU of an AU, my much smuttier version of the cave scene threesome ~~

Their thoughts start to blur and mingle together, and it feels like Satine is slipping into a collective dream they all share. It is too hard to distinguish where she ends and they begin, so she stops trying. Time, already slowed, becomes nonexistent, and she feels as if she is moving through molasses. Through the secondhand force sensitivity that her connection to Maul offers, she feels the heady power of the shrine singing to her, and she _understands_ the allure of the dark side. It whispers of power beyond her wildest dreams, of feverish pleasures, of secrets that defy imagination… _as long as she is strong enough to_ take _it._ Powered by the ancient echo of bloodshed in the cave, it fills them with its essence and murmurs that _peace is a_ lie _there is only passion…._ And that passion takes many forms- in an instant she feels a dizzying combination of hunger, ambition, rage, grief… and finally, most intoxicatingly, _lust_ – the original drive of all creatures, innate and as old as time.

Satine does not know if what happens next takes place in the real world, or simply in their shared dream that Maul has carved into the force. All she knows is that she turns to Saxon, and runs her fingers down his arm as if she cannot help herself. She looks at him and for the first time she is gripped by a burning desire for him, and because he is also in her mind and sees this, he lowers his head to kiss her. Satine thinks she feels Saxon’s hands at her naked breasts, and then his lips at her neck, and she folds herself towards him, grinding against his cock. In a heartbeat, or maybe an eternity, Maul is beside them, and the part of her that is Saxon is drawn instantly to him, and she gravitates towards the Sith. She sees him as Saxon does- his corded muscles that are strong enough to snap a man's neck, the gold eyes that gleam with an electrifying intensity. He is an avatar of War, exquisite in his fierce perfection, and yearning pools between her hips. Her hand stretches out, tracing the tattoos across his bare chest. Saxon does the same, and Maul allows both of their touches to continue, a low sound of approval rumbling up from his chest. 

Maul looks down at her, and brushes his thumb down her cheekbone, running it across her jaw and then up to her mouth. Satine thinks his lips move there next, but she cannot recall for sure. She does remember that he turns to Saxon and kisses him, and she feels the breath escape Saxon as he does.

There is fleeting, fragile moment where the distortion of reality ripples around them, and with some primitive precognition borrowed from Maul, she understands that this is a crossroads, that here, _now_ (if such a thing even exists in this strange, timeless realm), they can either continue to follow their base passions and revel in them, or move beyond them: to journey to the place that is the center of this vision, beyond space as well as time. Something phantom and radiantly dark sings to them from the blood-soaked shrine, and together they make a wordless decision.

The decision unfolds thusly: already stripped of her shirt, Maul presses closer behind her to pull down her pants, exposing the rest her body, and in the same instant Saxon moves forward, kissing Maul again as his hands roam Satine’s naked torso. Her own hands stretch out with mutual accord, possessed not only of her own will, but of Saxon’s and Maul’s as well, to yank Saxon’s bodysuit down the rest of the way. They kick their garments away and look at each other through shared eyes, and then Saxon lips are against hers, and his thoughts surge into her mind, carrying with them an image of their bodies intertwined. 

It is on instinct that she moves to make his vision a reality, and for a breathless moment there is nothing she feels except a rush of longing, a _need_ to see that image given shape. So she tugs him to the ground and straddles him.

She is already wet, and he slips his way inside of her with a low moan she finds herself helplessly echoing in her own voice. She starts to ride him – slowly at first, building pace gradually. He feels _divine_ – the sensation of his cock inside of her coupled with the sensation of her warm cunt around _him_ ; she is Satine, bouncing on his cock, she is Saxon, penetrating herself. Maul watches them, his pupils blown wide with shared lust, and she feels his hands along her back, his nails pressing into her spine in wordless encouragement. In the Sith’s mind she senses the incandescent intensity of his want- he craves this as desperately and furiously as he craves everything else: the core of these feelings belong to him, they are his natural passions, although this is not their natural form – it is Saxon and Satine’s sexual drive that propels this, giving them new shape.

She turns her attention back to Saxon underneath her, grabbing his hair and tugging it, eliciting another strangled sound from him that is somehow, in this moment, the sexiest thing in the universe. His pale eyes shine like suns in the reflected glow of the flames, and in his mind she feels cool, distant embers of desire being stoked into an inferno. She finds this truth within him: he has wanted her, in a vague, abstract way, since they first met, in the way she now understands he wants _most_ relatively attractive people he encounters. Until now, that impulse was more akin to a curiosity than genuine _lust_ , but in this moment _all_ she feels inside him is lust- an emotion mirrored within her.

She hears the sound of her blood in her ears, rushing through her with a tidal force, and she briefly slows her motions to sink down further onto Saxon’s cock, grinding until she draws out a low, broken moan from him. She feels his pleasure build as if it belongs to her- and it _does,_ in _every_ way that matters- and another moan forms deep in his throat, only to be swallowed by Maul as the Sith leans down to kiss his commander. Secondhand, she feels the unexpected softness of Maul’s lips and the rough insistence of his tongue forcing its way into Saxon’s mouth. The Sith’s mind tangles into hers, and his thoughts thrum with a possessive heat: Saxon is _his_ he has _always_ been his, this _perfect_ , vicious soldier belongs utterly to him, and to have the Mandalorian surrender his body so completely... this is merely as it _should be_... 

Satine continues to ride Saxon, her hips moving steadily, rhythmically, in a motion that is half-hers and half-Saxon’s – she is more assured in her movements than usual, more controlled, as if some part of her is dipping into his athleticism, his physical prowess, like an inherited muscle memory. She stretches out one hand to fist into Maul’s horns, and he makes no move to dislodge her, only uttering a rumbling noise that she _knows_ to be satisfaction. With her other hand she digs her fingers into the muscled plane of Saxon’s broad shoulder. She marvels at how it flexes under her grip, and slowly, she scrapes her nails across his chest. He _likes_ this, she knows he does with an instinct that transcends conscious awareness, and she continues the slow drag until she has reached his sternum. There, she opens her hand and presses her palm into his chest, feeling the racing beat of his heart and realizing as she does that his heartbeat is echoed in hers, in Maul’s. In this moment, they share the very pulse of existence.

Maul pulls away from Saxon, and his eyes meet hers with the electrifying force of a bolt of lightning, luminous and golden in the fire-lit darkness. It is Saxon that gasps through her at the sight of them, with her mouth, and his influence that has her pulling Maul towards her for a long kiss.

Finally, Satine disentangles her hand from his horns and he moves to straddle Saxon behind her, his body pressing against hers. His skin is desert-hot, jungle-hot, Dathomir-hot, warmed by the two hearts she can sense pounding in unison with hers. His breath tickles against her throat, and he starts to suck against her neck, worrying at the skin there with sharp teeth. The contact is rougher than she would perhaps normally enjoy… but she is not _entirely_ herself, she is Saxon and Maul and they are, in turn, her. She shares some of their need for brutality, for violence intermingled with pleasure, and so she gasps in approval and tilts her head back further, allowing him easier access to her throat.

Her eyes drift briefly closed, and she feels Maul’s calloused hands trail down her body, slipping down her collarbone and arriving momentarily at her breasts, rubbing and pinching her nipples until she cries out. Then lower still they go, until they have settled on her hips, and from there he begins to guide her motions on Saxon’s cock with a firm insistence, gripping into her flesh with a pressure that is just south of painful. She moves even faster, her breath escaping her in sharp pants. This is how Saxon likes to be ridden: hard and vigorously. The memories come to her unbidden, as clear and bright as kyber. She sees Rook on top of her – no, she corrects herself, even as the distinctions become less and less meaningful, on top of _Saxon_ – sees the other woman covered in sweat and wearing a triumphant grin as she fucks herself on his cock, her cunt pulsing and tightening as she cums. She sees a vision of Rau next, of her/Saxon holding his hips steady as they fuck up viciously into him, until the Protector spills himself into his hand.

There is a white-hot sensation starting to build to a crescendo between her legs. She is right on the edge of release, perilously close to orgasm, they all are: Saxon’s balls grow tight, and Maul… though the organs governing the physiological act of cumming might be lost, the bridge between their minds enables enough bodily feedback that he too is nearing the brink, and together they teeter ever closer to it. Distantly, she reflects on the alluring _wrongness_ of this: that she, former Duchess of Mandalore, is currently high on a potent combination of alien drugs and sorcery, about to cum with a Death Watch cock buried inside of her, and a Sith’s hands and mouth moving possessively along her body. The thought evaporates quickly- for in their communal dream-of-reality, the most immediate, pressing feeling is the heady current of three minds joined to one, bound together in a singular, overwhelming instant of passion… enhanced to a fever-pitch by the dark, mystic energies of the cave. They are _so close_ ….

Then abruptly, the hands at her waist are pulling her up and off Saxon, and she yelps at the loss of him, so close to that critical moment. Beneath her, she hears Saxon grunt in surprise before letting out a frustrated snarl, his hands reaching out fruitlessly for her.

“Not yet,” they hear Maul growl, his normally smooth voice rough with lust and their shared, thwarted release.

“My lord,” she begs, slipping into Saxon’s choice honorific.

“Maul,” Saxon pleas at the same instant, with her familiarity. He sits up, his cock almost impossibly hard and dripping with pre-cum.

 _Obey me_ they hear Maul command through their bond, and Satine feels a thrill shoot through her (one that surely originates with Saxon) as they arrange themselves into the position their Mand’alor desires. Still sitting upright, Saxon stretches his legs apart, then grabs her by the hair, pulling her head down to his lap. She sucks on his cock eagerly, tasting herself on his length and taking him deep into her throat. It has been a long time since she has done this with a man- but Saxon has done it more recently, and she uses some of his experience to guide her now.

Behind her, she feels Maul push her legs further apart and her hips up, and then she feels his tongue dance along her opening, before moving to lick her clit. She wonders briefly if he, too, is drawing these skills from Saxon- she sees a flash in her mind’s eye of the Mandalorian pressing his face between the thighs of a green skinned Twi’lek, and she can almost taste the other woman in her mouth, making her moan around Saxon’s cock. After a period of time that is glorious but torturously short, Maul pulls his head back up, and kisses down her arched spine as he presses two fingers into her, moving them with a deft, skillful precision.

“Did Kenobi do this to you?” he hisses.

Her mouth is occupied at the moment, but she projects her answer to him: _yes. Of course._

Maul’s jealousy infects her mind, and as she thinks to her old lover she finds that the memories are now tinged with an old, acerbic hate. And in return, she senses as something of her fondness for Obi-Wan leeches into Maul, and for an instant he sees his rival as she does- alight with gentle brilliance, dazzling and beautiful in their minds. And then lust curdles into fresh hate, and then twists back around into something like love, and then again into a form that mingles both emotions in equal measure.

“Is _this_ not better than with him?” Maul purrs into her ear.

She removes herself briefly from Saxon’s cock, gasping out a “yes”, half-delirious with lust. It may even be the truth- certainly she cannot remember _ever_ feeling as good as she does now, with her body humming from their connection and their collective desire reverberating between their linked minds.

Maul’s satisfaction pulses bright and warm through her, and he shifts his position, continuing to fuck her with his fingers, but angling himself close enough to Saxon to kiss him. Satine returns to her ministrations, bringing Saxon’s cock back into her mouth and suddenly she feels – _everything_. The sensation of a warm, wet mouth on her cock, of a tongue lapping at the underside of her length, of expert fingers curled inside of her, of lips pressed against her mouth and a tongue slipping inside, and she _knows_ they are all sharing in this moment exactly as she is – and

And when she cums, when they all do, together, it is like nothing she has ever experienced. She swallows Saxon down and she feels stars and galaxies unfurl in her mind, the swirl of the cosmos glittering under her skin, and then

And then the vision, waiting patiently in the dark, takes hold of them.


End file.
